


Side by Side by Side

by LoxleyAndBagell



Series: Screen Sorcery 'verse [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternative Universe- 1950's, Alternative Universe-Human, Angst, At the heart of it Ori just wants Fili alone, F/M, Fili and Kili are super siblings and Ori is jealous, Old Hollwood Musicals, Screen Sorcery 'verse, pre-Ereber Cinema Presents..., schoolkid crushes, which is super creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoxleyAndBagell/pseuds/LoxleyAndBagell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has always been Phile And Kelley together. Ori knew that the minute he saw them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Side by Side by Side

**Author's Note:**

> So. A little prelude to Erebor Cinema Presents...
> 
> Ori is going to school with Wonder Twins around '48, or '47, and the war's been over for a while; Phile and Kelley are theatre kids, and they already idolize their Cool As Fuck uncle. 
> 
> What the hell Dwalin and Gloin are doing there, you ask? Well, that's going to be explained in Erebor Cinema. Sorry. Once that's up, I'll edit the summary, for sake of avoiding spoilers.
> 
> The film's version of Fili and Kili was wonderful-- not only could nobody tell them apart (not even Thorin), they couldn't be separated. Otherwise Feels-y shit happened. As lovely as they are, and as much as we may want to wine and dine them, I don't know if there's many out there who would be okay with the idea of coming between them. They're already a complete unit together.
> 
> Also, Ori's a little creepy here, not gonna lie. Yeesh. 
> 
> Title comes from Stephen Sondheim's musical "Company."

It has always been Phile And Kelley together. Ori knew that the minute he saw them.

When he was very young, his mother took him and his brothers to a meager production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ in the park. A small husband-wife run theatre company, Blue Mountain, was performing it, and in hindsight it wasn’t very good, but it gave several actors something to do during that dismal time. 

What made Ori sit still and watch was not the fine language, nor the absurd ass’ head made of chicken wire and paper mache. It was the director’s daughter, labeled Peaseblossom.

He had entertained the idea of Phile (Period) for the briefest of moments— she had been on a stage for a heartbeat, and while Dori had insisted that he watch what was happening, watch the Fairy Queen, the Donkey Man, watch what was happening, as Ori wanted to watch from the get-go was Peaseblossom. 

Then entered Mustardseed. 

It broke his childish heart to watch them—even then, the pair moved perfectly, meant to work together. The program assured him of their blood ties, but he couldn’t see how a whole unit could divide for him, or how he could fit into it, because there was no way he could get to her any way else.

He didn’t see Phile And Kelley Blauberg until his first year at the state Secondary School. Though it had been years, he still felt a chill of recognition when Peaseblossom dashed into the schoolyard, still a fairy, even in the homely school uniform, because her blue eyes sparkled bright and her smile crinkled her face in dimples, and she simply shone like the sun…

Of course, the smile wasn’t for him; it was for Mustardseed as she laughed tauntingly at him, having gotten to the yard first. Then they went to stand in the corner that would soon become Theirs, and Ori would be daily witness to their Magic Circle on His bench.

That entire first year, he would sit with his sketchbook before school, and on the day he realized that much of his sketchbook was taken up with silly sketches of the pair standing in the corner, giggling privately. He saw that, in all of these drawings, they no longer looked quite like the petite pixie-feys from that ratty outdoor Depression- era production, like something from a storybook; there was a glint of the devil in them, now.

Embarrassed, he turned the page and drew the profile of William Owen, exaggerating the nose a touch in his haste.

“Looks just like him!”

With a jolt, he realized Kelley’s dark head hovered over one shoulder, beaming brightly at him and the silly scribble. 

“Hey, can you do Dylan Fenton?” asked a voice over his other shoulder, and there was her blonde head, so very close to him, and now he could see that her eyes actually had a surprising touch of green in them, and those dimples were for him…

They hovered over his bench the rest of the ten minutes before class, giggling and praising his caricatures, and not letting him run to class until he vowed to finish the portrait of the Rose Brothers tomorrow for them and (uselessly) introducing themselves. He pretended to recognize their names for the first time, gave his own name, and went on his way, head in the clouds.

He worked harder on that portrait than all of his schoolwork.

Inevitably, they wanted their own pictures done the next day.

“All right, does it matter who I draw first?”

“No, could you do us next to each other, like this?” 

They were ecstatic with it, and Ori didn’t see fit to mention that he had been practising on them frequently in the past. Some things were better off unsaid.

Later, when he got home, he tried to draw Phile alone. Immediately afterwards, he felt irrationally guilty, and crumpled it up.

The pair of them did not bring him into their circle, but rather relocated the circle next to him. Soon, he was no longer Orville but Ori, and he was watching them in their mad world of silly pranks and charming favours out of half the school. 

The next year, he was moved up a year, and had one class with Phile, a composition class that she frequently needed his help in. She was terrifically charming, could woo the very devil, but words on paper were not her forte. 

They found a system, where she would speak her arguments aloud, and Ori would write them out as they came. Later, they would look up sources from their coursework that could be manipulated to work. Ori was a frequent guest at hers and Kelley’s home, scribing for her and quizzing Kelley’s geography. In return, the pair of them would help him with his maths.

“One day, Ori,” Phile would declare, “when I’m an economic tycoon to be reckoned with, I’ll have a secretary to write out clever and polite things to everybody, and I’ll focus on draining them dry.

“And may I say, Ori,” she added, dimpling winningly, “you make a wonderful candidate.”

Ori laughed at the image of Phile in a pinstripe suit, holding a cigar and reclining in an enormous leather chair in an enormous office, dictating to him seated at a smaller desk before a typewriter. 

Kelley roared with laughter. “You won’t secretary for me, Ori. I’ll tend to my own clever writing in this whole tycoon affair.”

Phile jabbed her brother in the side. “Kelley, that sentence absolutely did not compute. You? Clever writing?”

Ori laughed, mostly at his own foolishness. Of course it would be those two together. That’s how it began, how it would always be.

He lived observing the inner workings of their magic circle for a long time. His composition grades soared, mostly thanks to his practice in helping Phile and Kelley, and opportunities presented themselves—jobs at newspapers, jobs at publishing houses, much more glamorous than the dream of typing for Phile. 

He became more and more used to the idea that he would be spending much of his time, too much of it, mooning over breaking a perfect unit for his own selfish needs unless he got a hold of reality.

It didn’t stop him from seriously considering the position their mother offered him at the theatre. 

“It would be terrific if you did,” coaxed Phile. “It’s much more exciting than all that boring office work you’d be doing elsewhere.”

“And you’d get to meet Uncle Thorin,” added Kelley.

“’Uncle Thorin?’” he parroted dumbly.

Phile’s eyes glowed. “Oh, let me tell me about Uncle Thorin…”

Ori told himself later that it was the promise of connections to a fellow like her American uncle who was not only a war hero, but had ties to every Hollywood name he’d ever heard of, and had saved every actor when Erebor Cinema crumbled. 

It had nothing to do with Phile’s plan to work there after graduation, nothing to do with the promise of at least a year alone with her while Kelley finished up, soon to follow her footsteps.

Months later, when he was kicking himself for giving up what probably was a high-paying career for the sake of a woman who didn’t need him, let alone want him, he stood with the other students at graduation. He felt a sharp jab in his side, and looked over to see Phile grinning madly at him, and then point. In the crowd, he realized, was a fellow he recognized as Dylan Fenton, even with a beard. Next to him sat a similarly bearded William Owen, both of them situated next to Phile’s mother and Kelley.

Kelley. 

“They look just like your drawings; remember?” she whispered. Ori giggled along with her, equally giddy, but for different reasons entirely.

This time, this one time, it was him and Phile. Not him and Phile And Kelley. 

This one golden moment, it was just Phile standing next to him, laughing with him only over a private joke that she would later share with her brother. This one time, this one time…

Ori told himself that was enough. That was enough for him, and he would be glad with it. He would have that silly moment of victory, and then move on with his life. 

He would remind himself of that as he watched the pair of them compensate for the lack of contact (Kelley had an entire year of school to finish) with swing dancing, lessons courtesy of Dylan Fenton himself, who had gotten a job at Blue Mountain soon after Phile’s gradation. He told himself that this year working with her, free of Kelley, was more than enough; that it should free every discontent he may have. 

It didn’t do too much to ease the jealousy of every conversation topic going to her brother, to her ambitions for him, for the plans they had together. Phile And Kelley, the dynamic duo. Wasn’t Ori a lucky spectator. 

It may have been better than pushing papers at an office, but at least paper didn’t care if he was only Ori.

A year later, when Uncle Thorin sent word to his niece and nephew with a grandiose promise of adventure that would conclude with Phile and Kelley’s office (if all went well), and with a story for Ori to tell that would give greater victories than a few minutes with a pretty girl, Ori threw away his initial trepidation. He would find a way to become his own perfect unit. There were bigger, better, grander things than a private joke with Phile Blauberg. 

He couldn’t imagine them now, but he’d see them soon if only he could train his eyes.


End file.
